Voices
by Dragon Ruler 06
Summary: Somewhat mined from another story on AFF - Credited in notes in first chapter. Erol left Torn with a message, sent to him after his accident on the racetrack. YAOI AND MPREG
1. The Message

S **o I actually got this idea from a story I read on AFF. It is a pairing I never really thought about until I read that story. It's called 'Marks' by musashden. Be warned, if you go looking for it, it gets graphic and the first chapter can be a bit rough. But it is where I got this idea.**

 **If musashden happens to be reading this, hope you don't mind me borrowing the idea of a couple of things. I fully credit them to you, and will tell everyone what they are in the endnote.**

 **Disclaimer: If you recognize the characters from the Jak and Daxter series, then they are not mine.**

 _Italics are Erol's message to Torn_

Normal is what's going on

 **Here the Chapter Starts**

 _Torn, if you're getting this message, then… Well, let me say what you always wanted to hear me admit. My pride was my downfall, and my short fuse made me a sore loser. There, happy?_

Boots stomped on the ground as he ran through the slums, shadows dancing over his features as he aimed to the one destination he did not think he would ever return to. But he has to. He has to!

 _I have a confession, and a request I doubt you will turn down. My confession is that I lied to you, Torn. That final night we had, you asked me if I was in heat, and I lied through my teeth. As much as I wanted to tell you the truth, I knew what you would do. I wanted the opposite._

Crumbling pavement turned to hard metal, his heavy boots clanging on the new texture. Damn him, he cursed as he kept pushing his aching legs, his burning lungs taking breaths deep enough to fuel him.

 _Even after, when we both knew what was going to happen, because you were expecting it and I was given the order. I kept quiet. If you won, then you just have to deal with the guilt of killing me, if you would feel guilty about it at all. If I won, then I would still have a piece of you to keep. I hoped, anyway._

"Damn you, Erol," he growled. He doesn't get to die on that damn racetrack then tell him something like this through a message labeled as a 'just in case'! If he weren't already dead, he would beat the man senseless!

 _No one picked up on it while I was in the hospital after you were through nearly killing me. It was too early. I was actually scared that it didn't work._

"Hate me," he told his ex before their fight. "Don't love me anymore and don't you dare ever forgive me" were his words. That was all he said before sinking his knife into the other's side. Before he started to beat him, leaving enough injuries and marks upon his body to convince the Baron that they fought, but that Torn still won. That he refused to play by his rules anymore. Not that he got away unscathed, either. Erol always fought back.

 _We both know what the Baron would have done if he found out. I would be charged with treason, probably another 'volunteer' to the Dark Warrior Program. And our child would be thrown into the Commander Program as soon as he started to walk._

Their child. He almost killed his own child that night years ago. And Erol didn't say a damn word of his little plot!

 _I had him in secret, and it took a lot to cover up the gained weight. I went through hours of labor and gave birth to him alone, no one helping me bring him safely into this disgusting world. I raised him mostly alone, Nana helped, without the Baron knowing anything about him._

He has to hurry. Has to run faster. As late as it is, there are no randomly parked zoomers to borrow. But he has to get there before the Krimzon Guard arrives to clear out the space. Protocol when it comes to a Commander's death. Everything in their quarters gets cleared out and investigated, mainly so the Baron can find something to excuse the death when a new Commander succeeds the previous.

 _I know you said to hate you and to not forgive you for what you did to me. I'm sorry, but I could only follow half of that order. I can't hate you, Torn. Every time I look at our son, I'm reminded of the happier days we had. Hell, why were we ever in that damn program? Why was I?_

Running around a corner, he had to jump back to avoid being spotted by the two guards outside. Hopefully, they haven't found the boy, or if they had, that they haven't taken him anywhere.

 _Regardless, you're a father, Torn._

He pulled out his pistol, counting the ammo already loaded and what was on his person.

 _He's a good boy. Intelligent. Usually happy, but perceives everything._

Letting out a low exhale, he slipped into the mindset he locked away after running from Baron Praxis. One mission. One goal. Other lives are pointless. Remove the threats. Get to the objective.

 _And with me gone, that leaves you._

He stepped out of the shadows, leveling his gun to the guards quickly then firing off two quick shots, one for each forehead.

 _You know the protocol._

The bodies crumbled to the ground and he darted back into the shadows as more soldiers came out of the building. One was struggling to hold a small boy that looked four, which would match up with the timeline, with auburn hair and golden eyes.

 _My request is to get to him before they do. Take him from this madness._

The one holding the boy was left alone as the others started to search the area. One looked over the two dead, checking over the bodies uselessly.

 _Please, Torn, save our son. Save Tryk._

Unseen, he fired off more rounds. At the second bullet, the still standing guards ducked for cover. The one holding the boy pressed against the wall, gun to the child's head, as though using him as a shield. In his Commander Mindset, that guard just made himself Torn's number one target.

 _He doesn't deserve to suffer like we did._

The guard's head exploded from the bullet piercing his skull. The child fell from his dead grasp, scurrying back into the building. Probably looking for a new hiding place.

 _He knows of you, who you are._

He lunged forward, knife drawn and slicing across one throat as he headed towards a new target, shooting another off to the side on his way. As soon as one was alerted to who he is, saw the marks inked into his skin, they knew they would not get out alive.

 _He knows you'll keep him safe._

When the last fell, he sheathed his knife and holstered his pistol as his feet carried him into the building the boy had run into. It was not hard to find the correct apartment that Erol once lived in. It used to be his. No, theirs.

 _For the record…_

He stepped inside the familiar space, scanning the area. He could see the body of an older woman in the doorway to the kitchen, blood pooling under her.

"Nana," he identified, kneeling by the deceased woman. The oldest resident in the building, filling in the roll of 'Grandmother' to everyone she deemed needs one. She always looked out for him when he wasn't taking care of himself. She must have been looking after the child when Erol was working.

A soft gasp drew his attention to the bedroom. Calmly, he approached the door and eased it open, catching sight of tiny feet slipping under the bed.

… _if I could go back in time and change anything…_

He crouched by the bed, one hand on top for leverage as he bent over to look underneath. Wide golden eyes upon a terrified face looked back at him as the small body tried to shuffle back.

… _I would not change a damn thing._

"Tryk?" he called gently. "Hey, it's okay. You can come out. I'm not going to hurt you. I promise."

The boy let out a low whine, wild eyes darting around to see if any other feet were around the bed. "Where's Papa?" the child asked fearfully.

Torn swallowed thickly, then shook his head. "He's not coming back home," he answered.

"Why?" Golden orbs focused back on him, thin lips quivering as water beaded at the corner of his eyes.

"He had an accident," he explained lowly. "I'm going to take care of you now."

Hesitantly, the boy started to crawl out, Torn backing up to give him space. His breath caught in his throat when he was able to fully see the boy. He looked a lot like Erol, but with his hair color, eye shape, and even the structure of his long ears.

Tryk looked up at him, still scared but curious. His head tilted before he looked to a picture off to the side. Torn stole a quick glance, seeing the picture Erol insisted on after their first month of him training the other. Happier times, indeed, before both knew it would not last. They knew how it would end, but they went through with it anyway.

After studying the picture, Tryk looked back to Torn. "Are you my Daddy?" he asked weakly, sniffling.

Giving the boy a sad smile, he nodded. "Yeah," he choked. "I'm your Daddy."

Tryk shakily stood up, wrapping his slim arms around Torn's neck and squeezing as tightly as he could. "Papa said to wait for you," the boy explained. "Before he left to race. He said 'hide from the guards and wait for Daddy'." He sniffled, tucking his face into Torn's shoulder. "They hurt Nana."

One arm scooped the boy up as Torn rose to his feet, the other hand pressing against Tryk's back for support. "I know. I'm here now," he reassured, blinking back salty water threatening to spill from his eyes. Erol told their child that before the race, meaning he knew there was a chance that he wouldn't make it back. "Let's get home."

 _I still love you, Torn. I never stopped. But I never forgave you._

 **Here is a line!**

Ashelin walked right into the Underground Headquarters as easily as she would into her own bedroom, standing in front of his table with her hips cocked to the right and one hand on them. "So," she started, ignoring the fact that Torn hasn't even looked at her. "Those bodies around Erol's place are your doing, I'm guessing."

"Maybe," he deflected. "That why you're here?"

"Where's the kid?" she demanded.

"Kor is watching him," Torn replied, thinking she was speaking about Mar's heir.

"Not that one," she clarified. "Erol's boy."

Torn froze, looking at her with a glare.

"I know you two were together before you left the guard. I know Tryk is yours. So where are you stashing him?"

He huffed, turning away from her and going to the door off to the side. "He's safe," he reassured. "I won't let anyone harm him."

 **Here the Chapter Ends**

 **Okay, so the parts that are mined are the following:**

 **-The 'Commander Program', which was not given a name in "Marks" but the principal of it is the same. Basically, there is only one Commander. When one is trained, they either kill their predecessor, or the current Commander kills his protégé. Baron's idea, if I understand correctly. And because of the Program, Torn has this mindset for when he is in 'Commander Mode'. Meaning he blocks out everything to focus on one thing.**

 **-The part about Torn beating Erol to near death, that was also mined. Though there was more to it than that in "Marks". In that story, it was more of the two agreeing to the beating, though Torn was doing it to make Erol hate him while Erol (I think) just wanted it to be convincing enough to fool Praxis.**

 **-And last but not least, the bit when Torn told Erol to not love him and to not forgive him. One of the best moments in "Marks". To me anyway.**

 **The rest is mine, unless it has been done before. In that case, I don't have a clue about it. 'Tryk' is pronounced as 'Trick', in case anyone tried to pronounce it as 'Trike'. There may be more to this story later on, and there may not be. More stories connected to this one may stand alone. Or they can be added onto this one.**

 **But I am already getting ideas. (Tapping fingers together like a villain)**

 **And the final note of this chapter, in case anyone wanted an explanation to the mpreg aspect of this story, Alphas and Omegas concerning the male gender. Deal with it. There is not enough Mpreg in the Jak and Daxter section around here!**

 **Let me know what you all think! And if i should continue this!**


	2. The Start

**After writing the previous chapter, more scenes started playing in my head until I have some form of a story. So we shall see how far I can go with this. We are taking a trip to the past! ^^**

 **THERE WILL BE AN EXPLICIT SCENE IN THIS CHAPTER BETWEEN TWO MEN - IT WORKED ITS WAY IN!**

 **Disclaimer: Do not own anything Jak and Daxter related. They belong to Naughty Dog.**

 _Italics are a voice of the past_

Normal is what's going on

 **Here the Chapter Starts**

 _It's all a game to the Baron._

He has been Commander for a year before meeting his own protégé. Praxis seemed proud about who he selected to learn from the man the Baron claims to be his best commander. Though he said the same thing about Torn's teacher, too.

 _A culling._

The new kid, younger than him by a couple of years, is an omega. That alone shocked him, not that he let the Baron see his surprise. After all, omegas are not exactly the best Krimzon Guard material around. Either Praxis is grasping straws, or this one is different.

 _He chooses our students…_

Seeing the look on the other's face, he withheld the irritated groan itching to emerge from his throat. Already his student has a puppy crush on him. That's what happens when an omega is brought into the guard.

… _and orders them to try and kill us when he deems them ready._

"I know what you're thinking, Commander Torn," Praxis chuckled. "I assure you, he is one of the best recruits I have seen since your enlistment. I hope he continues his stride and doesn't disappoint."

 _Because only the best may stand by his side, be his right hand._

"Understood, sir," Torn accepted then looked to his new student. "Fall in."

Immediately, the shorter man followed after him as he left the room. Both were silent through their short trip down the hall and into the shooting range. He has to see what this one can do to know where to start.

 _You'll see soon enough, stupid boy!_

"Grab a pistol and choose a target, brat," he ordered stiffly, arms behind his back with one hand gripping the opposite wrist.

Wordlessly, though with a glare to Torn, the orange-haired man picked up his weapon then confidentially walked over to a marked spot nearby. Holding his gun up, not even bothering with earmuffs to block out the noise, he fired.

 _He'll give the order he gave you to your student._

Smirking, Torn walked up behind his new protégé. Unnoticed by the younger man that was focused on shooting his target, Torn wrapped an arm around the other's throat in a headlock then wrapped his other arm around the limb holding the weapon, aiming it up to the ceiling.

"First rule, and the most important," Torn hissed into his ear as the omega tried to squirm out of his tight grasp. "Never let your guard down, no matter where you are or who is with you."

 _One day, you will stand as you are, dead-eyed like a good little lapdog._

He pushed the omega away, dodging the fist that was aimed for his chin as the younger spun on his heel. Catching the next punch, he kicked the other in the stomach, effectively knocking the wind out of him. Then he twisted the arm he was still holding, forcing his student to turn around with his back to Torn and pressed him against the wall.

"You have a short fuse, brat," he taunted. "Another thing to work on. Emotions controlling you will get you killed, idiot."

 _Or you will be in my place, warning the one student - the one that made you proud! - of his future... only to be ignored._

"Erol," he hissed.

"What was that?" Torn mocked, tightening his grip.

"My name is Erol!"

 _But look at you, Torn. You could care less about what a dying man has to say._

Torn chuckled mockingly, releasing his hold and allowing Erol to turn back to him, panting through his teeth to make an annoying hissing sound as his golden eyes glared at him. "I don't care what your name is," he told him. "Not until you make me."

 _You are everything the Baron wanted as a Commander._

"Get back to your target," he ordered, jerking his head to the side. He smirked when he noticed Erol stealing glances at him, though still glaring. Even as the younger started shooting his target again, any small movement Torn made had Erol's attention. Good, the brat learns fast.

 _Go ahead and pull the trigger, boy. Be his Commander. And when your time comes, don't even bother warning your student._

Once the clip was empty, Torn flipped the switch to bring the target to them in order to inspect the result. Most of the bullets hit the target's head, a few in the chest. Even fewer hit the shoulders and the stomach. Either his student missed or these were on purpose. Seeing the smug grin on Erol's face, he chuckled.

They were on purpose. Shots to injure, to incapacitate the target. Shot-out shoulders mean they can't fight back, usually. A gut-shot is generally painful and difficult to survive, but still treatable.

"They're scattered," he commented, bursting his student's proud bubble.

"What?" Erol sneered. "They hit the target!"

"They're scattered," Torn repeated. "About half of these headshots can be survived. But… not bad, kid."

Blinking in surprise, the prideful smirk returned along with crossed arms. "So, what do I have to do to really impress you?" he asked.

"Whatever I tell you," he answered, shoving the target into Erol's chest roughly. "Come on. I still need to test you in other areas to grasp your training."

 _Don't bother, because your student will have a heart blacker than your own. And won't even let you live long enough to warn him like you are allowing me._

 **Here is a line!**

Two weeks. Two weeks of his student following him around, observing his treatment of the other guards and learning the grueling task of paperwork. Two weeks of getting the brat to shoot straight, occasional missions outside the walls to deal with Metal Heads, and knocking him on his ass during every spar.

'It's almost a shame to bruise up such a fine ass, too,' he thought to himself as Erol landed on the ground again, though was quick to get back up and ready for the next strike. He sidestepped and grabbed the hand aiming for his cheek, twisting it behind Erol's back and using his other arm to hold the omega to his chest, his hand gripping his curved dagger with the point directed to one golden eye.

"You're dead," he informed, pushing the younger away. "You keep getting angry, so you keep screwing up. That short fuse of yours makes you a sore loser, brat, and it is going to get you killed."

Erol snorted, wiping his bleeding nose with the back of his hand as he glared at the commander. "Are you usually this tough on all the people you teach?" he asked sharply.

"You're actually my first student," he informed with an uncaring shrug. "My teacher, the Commander before me, was tougher. So quit your bitching." Sniffing the air, his nose scrunched up in distaste. "Alright, we've been at this for three hours and your stench can fell any Metal Head."

"And whose fault is it that we have been training for three hours in the hot sun?" Erol shot back, following Torn into the nearby building.

"We could try during the winter, but we need something to do until then," Torn chuckled as he walked inside, bypassing rows of rusted lockers and heading towards the showering area. "If it's too much for you, then quit."

"Absolutely not!" Erol snarled. "I worked too hard to get this far! Some pain-in-the-ass like you isn't going to scare me away!"

Torn quirked a brow at his student as he removed his shirt then threw it into the other's face, smirking as the orange-haired idiot sputtered as he yanked it off. "Take your damn clothes off and clean up," he told him with a wave over his shoulder. "You smell."

The omega stuck his tongue out immaturely, throwing the shirt to the side before peeling his own clothing off his sweaty skin. His simple breaths carried the smell of their various workouts, the three-hour sparring period only the most recent. With a scowl, he conceded to the Commander's comment. He smells terrible. With a smirk, he picked up the shirt he threw to the side sniffed it, then chuckled. "You're no bed of roses yourself, Commander," he purred mockingly.

Torn huffed, ignoring the comment as he removed his last article of clothing. "Want to smell something of mine, smell this," he scoffed, throwing his underwear at the younger man.

Erol exclaimed in disgust, batting the underwear away as Torn laughed at him. Seeing the alpha walk into the shower area, Erol blushed as he looked to the last piece of clothing that was thrown at him. Biting his cheek, he threw the shirt on top of it. Out of sight, out of mind, after all. To his embarrassment, though, the scent of the alpha did cause his blood to stir, evident by the twitching of his (thankfully) still limp member.

Inhaling deeply, he calmed himself before the blood caused him to harden, closing his eyes to block out anything he could see. Once the heat spreading through him settled, his eyes opened with a slow exhale passing his lips then he went into the showers as well. The communal showers, he realized. Meaning no stalls or walls or anything. Just one large room with a couple of drain holes and multiple showerheads.

Only one had water spilling from it, a thin layer of steam rising in the air as the water fell upon the Commander. His dark red hair hung over his tattooed face, water streaming off his sharp features as he pressed one hand to the wall and leaned into it.

Golden eyes widened as they traced over every visible outline of the muscles the Commander developed, from shoulders to his legs. His back and sides, from what he can see, had quite a few scars. Slashes, mostly, but also a few bullet scars. Inked flesh rippled as Torn rotated his shoulders, the coloring going down his arms and halfway down his back. He gulped when Torn lifted his head, tilting it back to let the water fall upon his inked face, his hair pushed back by the force of the shower so that it spilled down his back, imitating a curtain of blood.

'Why can't the Commander be old and unattractive like the last one?' he bemoaned to himself as he took the spot two showerheads away, putting one empty space between them.

"Mind answering something for me?" Torn asked, looking to the blushing omega that was trying his hardest to not look at the Commander.

"What?" he snarled, stealing a quick look over then focusing on the cracked tile in front of him. Is that mold?!

"Why join the guard?"

He scoffed, rolling his eyes as he turned the hot water on. A rather familiar question, though often asked with a tone of mocking sarcasm, as well as an added-on comment that he should be like other omegas. Be a good bitch, take a cock, and pop out babies.

Though he supposed he could answer the commander. Not only is the man his teacher, but he also asked the question with real curiosity. He wasn't mocking him, teasing or taunting like he usual does when he speaks to Erol. He actually wants to know.

"I fought a lot when I was younger," he answered. "When it was found out that I am an omega and not an alpha like most expected me to be, they started trying to make me a typical omega. I refused. Joining the guard seemed to be the only way to prove that I am not going to be some alpha's whore and lay around a house raising a bunch of brats, depending on the 'man of the house' to support me and our brood. I don't need an alpha."

Torn chuckled, looking back up towards the showerhead. An aggressive omega, a rare creature indeed. In fact, the only other one he knows is his own omega mother. And he was as much of a hardass as his alpha father.

"And it is satisfying to knock alphas that think with their dicks down a peg when they think they can boss me around, only to back off like scared little crocopups when I snap back."

His chuckles turned into a laugh, his head dropping until his chin almost hit his chest. "So your solution was to join the Guard," he commented. "And getting into the Commander Program?"

"I like bossing others around," Erol said with pomposity, running his hands through his soaked hair then back around his neck to his chest. "Mind answering a question for me, Commander?"

Torn hummed in acceptance, wiping down his chest to remove bits of grime that was stuck to him.

"What do I have to do to get the same marks you have on your ears on my own?"

He started to chuckle again, though it was hollow and humorless. It actually sent shivers down Erol's spine, despite the hot water spilling onto him, covering every inch of his skin as its journey down his body and to the floor.

"When you get the order that earns these marks, you'll know," Torn answered, looking over to him. "And by then, you better hope you don't need me to teach you anything anymore."

That sounded quite eerie to the orange-haired omega, causing his brows to furrow as he thought over what the commander told him. What could that mean? He knows there is only one commander at a time. Too many in one position ends up with anarchy, a civil war within the guard, and conflicting orders that don't need to happen. Hence the Commander Program, when the one-and-only Commander teaches his replacement.

When he turned to Torn to inquire what he meant, he froze. The commander was leaning with his back against the wall, letting the water pour over his front. There were more scars on his skin, as well as more ink. Slowly, his eyes followed trails of water going down until the yellow orbs landed on the member between his muscular thighs, thick dark red hair trying to cover the length limply hanging down.

Another thick swallow of saliva as he tried to tear his gaze away, but found it to be difficult. His blood started burning up and headed south. In an effort to hide his growing arousal, he turned so that his back was to Torn.

"What does that mean?" he shakily asked, unaware of Torn's eyes opening and staring at his rear.

Unaware of the tongue that darted out to lick thin lips in a show of lusty hunger. Unaware of the length he was just staring at twitching to life, slowly rising to attention as it grew longer and thicker. Though unlike Erol, Torn didn't twist himself to hide.

"There is only one Commander and that one is always the best," he replied, tilting his head down as his eyes traced over the slightly bruised flesh facing him. "You'll know soon enough. Then we'll see if you actually learned anything."

Still not turning around, Erol scoffed with a roll of his eyes, trying to will his erection down. "What will happen to you when I become the new commander?"

"I'll just be another ghost," Torn answered with a smirk, pushing off the wall and approaching the oblivious omega. Before Erol could ask him what that was supposed to mean, Torn had him in another headlock with one arm and the other hand on top of Erol's head. The omega's hands grabbed the arm around his throat, trying to pull the limb away. "Your guard was down. Now your neck is snapped and you're dead. Or…"

Nipping the ear closest to his mouth, he pushed the omega to the wall, letting his erect member rub between the perked cheeks of Erol's ass. "You're up against the wall, screaming and begging me to stop as I fuck you raw, make you bleed. I can tear you up inside and out. Really, it would be a shame for such a pretty little omega like you to get ruined because you can't figure out to trust no one anywhere."

Removing his hand from the thick orange hair, he trailed it down to tease around the omega's pelvis, deep chuckles echoing into Erol's ear. "Though you don't seem opposed to that."

"Get off," Erol growled, pushing back, but Torn tightened his grip, his wandering hand grasping thin hips and squeezing hard enough to bruise.

"No," he retorted, pushing more against the smaller male. He smirked when he felt the cock under his hand bumped his palm, his fingers wrapping around the shaft and slowly stroke it, teasing the omega. "Maybe I won't listen to anything you want me to do. Maybe that's what you want. An aggressive omega vying for control like you…" He chuckled, nipping at Erol's ears. "No, you don't need an alpha. You just want to be dominated. As much as you crave to be in control, you want someone to control you."

"I don't know what you're talking about," the omega stuttered, his cheeks glowing red that tried to stretch up his ears. He bit his lips to hold in a moan as the alpha rolled his hips against him, the callous fingers squeezing his erect cock as they slowly made their way to the base.

The arm disappeared from his neck as the body behind him pulled away. A low whine unintentionally escaped him before his knees were forced to give out under him, causing him to fall to the tile floor as a hand gripped his hair tightly. "Yes, you do," Torn taunted, stroking himself as he pulled Erol's head back. "You sure got hard in a hurry."

"Shut up," Erol hissed, teeth clenched as the hand yanked his hair.

Torn's smirk grew when he saw that his action made Erol's cock jerk upwards. "What you want is an alpha that won't take your shit," he continued on. "Someone that won't turn tail and run just because you got fangs. Let me tell you something, bitch. Those fangs dig in, you're going to get one hell of a punishment."

"I would love to see you try!" the omega growled, though his lips were stretched into a feral grin as the tip rubbed against his chin. Leering up at the commander, his mouth opened, his tongue darting out to lick around the glans. "Think you can control me?" He laughed, taking the cock into his mouth with a low hum. He went down on it twice then pulled off with a wet pop, grinning up at the alpha. "I don't think you have it in you."

"Little slut," Torn scowled, yanking the orange hair again hard enough for Erol to gasp, his mouth open enough for him to shove his cock back into the wet heat of the omega's mouth. Slim hands gripped his waist as he started thrusting into the other's mouth, his hips snapping forward as his hand pulled the head back down to meet with his thrusts.

Erol gagged around the thick member that was leaking precum in his mouth, trying to keep up with the brutal pace Torn had set before he was prepared. He was no stranger to oral, having given head to some in the slums (he would never admit his shame, though) just to get enough money to have food on the table when he was a young teen. But Torn wasn't like others looking for a release, drawing it out for his own pleasure or letting him do all the work.

No, the commander was taking full control of the situation. Thoroughly using Erol however he wanted. As much as he denied it, he found himself actually enjoying the blowjob he was somewhat being forced into. He always did like being in control, but maybe Torn was right. He did have some animalistic desire to be dominated, to have that beautiful freedom stripped by someone that won't tolerate his attitude and temper. To have someone show him that he does not have any control. That he is not something to be feared, but fought against.

Though that doesn't mean he will enjoy being raped, should that ever happen. If anyone got it into their head that they could force themselves on him, he can fight his way out of it. He can easily snap his jaw close right now, dig into the cock sliding in and out of his mouth and rip it up with his teeth in a harsh display to Torn that he won't accept such treatment. But he can't bring himself to hate this if only because he prefers to take it as a sign of some sort that the commander may be interested in him as much as he is interested in the redhead.

His body unconsciously rocked in time with the thrusting, his hands sliding down Torn's legs to rest between his knees. He could feel his own cock rubbing in the gap between his wrists and arms, his knees pushing himself upwards as Torn slammed back down into his throat.

The hand gripping his hair pushed him forth, his nose buried into the thick pubic hair as the cock in his mouth throbbed. The grip not allowing him to back up as heat erupted into his mouth, carrying the salty flavor of thick cum down his throat. When the member started to soften, he was pulled off sharply, thrown back enough to land on his back.

With a glare, he pushed himself up, coughing as he rolled onto his side. "That was disgusting!" he exclaimed, trying not to vomit up the semen he was forced to swallow. He may have given blowjobs when he was younger, but he always spat it out.

"Yet you came from having your mouth fucked," Torn commented, smirk dancing on his lips as his foot rubbed the softening member between his legs. The omega's own semen was mixing with the water falling on them, sliding down his pelvic area and disappearing into the drain. "You and I are going to have a lot of fun, Erol."

 **Here is a line!**

" _Do it, boy," the older man wetly encouraged, though his tone was taunting. "Be the perfect little lapdog to Praxis."_

 _Torn said nothing, staring down at the man that taught him most of what he knows. He was given his objective, and he will follow through with it. No matter what the target says, the target dies._

 _Holding up the pistol, pressing the barrel to the skin between dark eyes that were laughing maliciously at him, he pulled the trigger. Blood splattered across the ground, the body falling limply. Holstering his gun, he turned from the scene._

 _As much as he tried to fight it off, the words danced in his mind. Despite what the Baron said when he was told of his success, they still twirled and repeated. When he received the markings on his ears, the ones that show everyone that he is the new commander of the Krimson Guard, he realized something._

 _Commanders don't retire. No older civilian has these marks. Because when a new commander comes into power, the old one is useless. Cast aside._

 _As he learned, killed by the student._

 **Here the Chapter Ends**

 **Believe it or not, that is how they get started. And a small flashback for Torn, too, because I felt like it.**

 **So the 'voice' of the chapter is actually Torn's commander before he was killed. I will try to leave notes saying who the 'voices' belong to as this progresses.**

 **Let me know what you guys think. I may move this to AFF if I get more explicit than this. Hopefully, I can hold myself back.**


	3. The Past

**So kind of had a hard time figuring out how to begin this chapter. I think I got it because I introduced a character briefly explored in the first one, so she needs to be explained a bit.**

 **Meet Nana, everyone! ^^**

 **Disclaimer: Nope, Jak and Daxter series does not belong to me. They belong to Naughty Dog.**

 **Here the Chapter Starts**

He wasn't sure what is going on. Torn is such a meticulous person, as well as a creature of habit. When he got to their usual meeting place for training today, and they're supposed to do a mission outside the walls to handle some Metal Heads afterwards, Torn wasn't there. The commander is always there before him, up at the crack of dawn and taunting him about being a late sleeper.

His residence is also code protected. The only reason he knows where Torn lives is because of their advancing relationship resulting in the occasional night spent in the redhead's bed. But he doesn't know Torn's passcode to get in, usually blocked from seeing what numbers are pressed in what sequence.

Which leaves him here, banging on the door to try and rouse Torn into getting up and letting him in. To his confusion, easier said than done. Whatever caused Torn to be late today must really be affecting him.

"Oh, is the poor boy still asleep?" a wispy voice asked, causing Erol to looked over to the side and jump back in surprise. An older woman with silver hair tied into a tight bun and bright blue eyes surrounded by wrinkles.

Erol just knows that if Torn were told he had no clue the elderly woman was there, he would be teased mercilessly and put through even more hours of training in the 'Dark Room'. Actually, Torn may do that anyway because he's been taking the Dark Room as an excuse to molest him. Granted, he's not really complaining because sex in pitch black is better than when he can see what's going on.

"He had a rough night," she informed as she approached the door and started putting in a code, snapping him out of his thoughts. "The poor thing is being haunted again."

"Who are you?" Erol asked, perhaps a little harshly. "And how are you able to enter his residence?"

"Oh, I'm Nana," she introduced herself, looking up from the pad she was putting numbers into. "The commander before the last was my husband, so I used to live here. They always add in new codes for new commanders, but they never erase the old ones. Which lets little biddies like myself in to harass the new commander into behaving himself. Or reminding him to eat properly."

The door slid open with a hiss, revealing the blank interior of the entry hallway into the living room. Torn never kept anything around to personalize the living space, like it was nothing more than a place for him to eat and rest after the day. Erol once asked him if he would mind throwing in some décor, yet the commander told him to wait until the place is officially his. The redhead just saw no point in making the space a home, for some reason.

As they entered, Nana tisked lowly as she shuffled past the living room and into the bedroom, pushing the ajar door until it was full open. The room was dark, mainly because of the curtain blocking out any light from the outside. Torn looked to be partially hanging off the edge of the bed, a small glass on the floor and a quarter-filled bottle of alcohol on the bedside table.

"Torn," Nana called, patting his shoulder. "It's time to get up. You have a visitor."

The redhead grumbled, his brows furrowing as he turned his head the other way, grabbing a pillow and putting it on his head. "You're too loud, Nana," he grumbled, through it was muffled.

"There's a nice young man here looking for you," she continued on, shaking his exposed arm. "What were you doing drinking so much last night? You'll be late for work."

"He is late," Erol muttered with a roll of his eyes.

Torn groaned, his hand dropping and taking the pillow with it. "Fine," he conceded, though did not lift his head.

Mocking sympathy, Nana patted his head. "I'll get you some medicine for that hangover of yours," she offered as she started to leave the room. Over her shoulder, she teased, "You two play nice now!"

Erol stifled a snicker, clearing his throat as quietly as he could before making his way to the bed and kneeling on it with his legs at Torn's sides. Slowly, he lowered himself, his hands slipping underneath the redhead as his chest slid against the toned back. "Good morning," he sung playfully into the long ear.

Torn just grunted, not moving an inch as Erol shifted on top of him. "How late am I?" he asked, though his voice sounded raspier than usual.

"Oh… a couple hours," the orange-haired omega replied nonchalantly. "Your neighbor was nice enough to let me in after I was banging on the door for half an hour." Tucking his face into the other's shoulder, he nipped at the flesh before adding, "Don't worry. The Baron doesn't know you're late."

"I doubt that," he grouched as he pushed himself up onto his elbows, then groaned as his head dropped back down.

Curious, Erol reached over and grabbed the bottle, shaking it briefly to hear the sloshing of the liquid inside. "I wonder what drove you to this," he commented boredly. "I mean, it's not because of the Metal Heads, is it? They never bothered you before on our previous missions."

"Not them," he assured, trying to push the omega off of him but his hangover decided to deny him that privilege. "Get off before Nana comes back in here."

"Who is she, anyway?" the omega inquired, placing his chin on Torn's shoulder.

"The widow of the commander before mine," he answered, turning his head to look over his shoulder. "She doesn't tell anyone her real name, so everyone just calls her Nana." He smirked teasingly. "You're not jealous of an old woman, are you?"

Erol jerked back, huffing in mocking annoyance. "As if I would be jealous of some old woman dragging your attention from me," he declared with an exaggerated flourish of his hand to his chest.

The alpha chuckled then clutched his head and fell back onto the bed. "Get off," he ordered, snapping his back up sharply to throw Erol off. The younger tumbled off, landing on the floor with a grunt just as Nana reentered the room.

"Here, dear," she offered, placing a glass of water on the table then a glowing green capsule.

Torn took the capsule from the table and swallowed it dry. With an audible gulp, the pill slid down his throat as he dropped face-first back onto his pillow. Erol rolled his eyes with a smirk and shook his head, snickering when a foot bumped the back of his head.

 **Here is a line!**

The final Metal Head of the targeted group fell with a screech, glowing eyes darkening and skull gem popping out of socket once the body fell to the hard ground. Cockily, Erol smirked to the commander as he propped his rifle on his shoulder, proud to have fought off the enemy without gaining a scratch. To his confusion, Torn wasn't even looking at him. He was staring off to side, his brows low and his expression stoic.

 _Everyone has a ghost that haunts them._

Curious, he approached the commander, lowering his weapon and looking to the building Torn was staring at. It, like the rest of the buildings, was mostly collapsed. The bottom floor was flooded with the toxic water as dust fell from the stone at any push of the wind.

 _Some can confront them._

"What is so interesting about that place?" he asked, looking to the redhead.

Torn blinked, looking back at Erol. With a sigh, he shook his head then pointed to the window that was missing the top right corner. Through it, they could see a slab of concrete with metal rods sticking out of it.

 _Some don't want to._

"Look at that window right there," he instructed. "Notice the broken roof."

"Yeah?" Erol drawled, not getting what the alpha was trying to tell him just yet.

 _What happens to the ones that don't want to, Mama?_

"Under that piece of roof are two bodies," he informed. "An omega mother and his younger son."

Erol gasped, looking to Torn with wide eyes. Torn, however, kept his stoic face.

"How do you know that?" he asked uncertainly, not sure if he would want the answer or not.

 _They live on, sweetie. They live and remember the ghosts._

The redhead blinked then shook his head. "My mother and my brother," he answered. "My father is in the stairwell, crushed by the rest of the building. He was trying to get to them before the roof fell." Looking down, he lifted his hands and stared at the gloved palms. "I found my sister hiding in the closet as the apartment burned. I got her out by jumping out of the window, almost broke my back when I landed. I tried everything to help her. She died from her burns two days later, she was in so much pain."

 _When a ghost is confronted, then they are forgotten. When left alone, they are always around. There will always be something to remind others of them._

Erol turned his head away, staring at the house. "When the Metal Heads attacked?" he asked hesitantly.

Torn shook his head then laughed bitterly. "No," he hissed. "Some dumbass was so terrified of the Metal Heads that he decided that he would destroy himself before they had a chance to. He blew up his apartment and the rest of the building started collapsing. Ironically, the Metal Heads broke through the wall a week later. Their bodies are still there. No one bothered trying to dig them out before the invasion. No one but me, anyway."

The redhead turned to Erol, then calmly told him, "The passcode to my door is forty-nine forty-five zero-seven ten sixteen."

"What?" Erol asked, brows furrowed in confusion. They were just talking about the alpha's deceased family then he just throws that bit of information out there so casually.

 _They will struggle through their life as anyone else does, little one. But they still pull through._

"I requested it that way," Torn told him. "My father was forty-nine. My mother was forty-five. My brother was seven and my sister was ten."

"And you were sixteen," he realized, whispering the words.

 _After all, their ghosts are also their angels._

Torn nodded, confirming the statement. "I lost everyone and everything when I was sixteen. I joined the guard after that, wanting to stop others from losing their loved ones like I did." He scoffed, shaking his head again. "I don't know what the hell I was thinking."

 _What's an angel, Mama?_

Unsure of what to say, Erol remained silent. No wonder Torn did not want to do this mission. Why he blocked out everything on their way here, even his flirtatious comments and innuendoes that he made in hopes to garner some kind of reaction from the alpha.

This place holds his ghosts.

 _You're my angel, my precious Erol. And one day, I will be your angel._

 **Here is a line!**

The two were silent as they eased through the usual traffic of Haven City. Occasionally, Erol wanted to jump out to grab a small zoomer in order to speed through the area, ignoring all the traffic, but he knew that he would get in trouble for doing that. So he surrendered to staying inside their cruiser, suffering through the slow paces of other drivers.

"It's kind of sad, isn't it," Torn chuckled darkly.

Erol hummed in response, lolling his head to the side to stare at the commander.

"You don't see as many kids running around like you used to," the redhead pointed out. "Either they are all stashed away at home, or people are too afraid to start families."

"Because of impending eco shortage or because of the risk of Metal Heads getting into the city like before," the omega shrugged off.

"No kids means that the population will eventually dwindle away into nothing," he scoffed, taking his eyes off the ground and focusing back on the traffic. "You have any family?"

Erol shrugged. "My mother died when I was a teenager," he replied. "She was always sick. No brothers, no sisters, and no father."

"You didn't know him?"

"I doubt he even knows of me."

Torn hummed, not finding the idea a ludicrous one. Several families are without one parent, either because of death or abandonment. Or because of one-night stands resulting in a conception. Most of those kids grow up as scrawny runts brawling in the streets and stealing food from the venders in the bazaar. Some females and omegas turn to prostitution, accidental babies being born that way and growing up in a similar setting as their mothers.

"Where did you used to live?" he inquired curiously.

"In the house across from the Oracle Shrine," the omega replied with an uncaringly shrug. "Filthy. Run down. Threads for blankets, rags for clothes, and no bed. But my mother did what she could for me when I was growing up, even starving herself so that I wasn't hungry." A low sigh escaped him as he tilted his head back. "When I was old enough, I started stealing food for both of us. After I was nearly caught several times, and had to fight to keep what food I stole, I tried other methods. I helped her keep us fed and I helped her get her medicine."

"What was she sick from?"

Erol shrugged. "I'm not sure. It was making her waste away slowly. She knew she was dying, too." With a teasing smirk, he looked to the commander. "Ever think of starting your own family?"

"No," Torn denied swiftly.

"You're always asking me if I'm in heat when we have sex," Erol pointed out calmly, poking the redhead's armored shoulder. "You ask me that for a reason."

"I don't want to risk getting you pregnant," he explained calmly, swatting the hand coming forth to poke his shoulder again. "If you become the new commander, then you can't be running around with a baby in your belly. You will end up getting multiple high-risk missions, get into a variety of fights. If you're pregnant, you can't do your job effectively."

"What if you stay as the commander?" the omega suggested, still smirking coyly. "I can still be a guard, maybe a captain. Not as risky and almost as demanding as the position of commander."

"It's not that easy," Torn sighed, shaking his head. "Once you're in the program, it can end in one of two ways. Either you're the new commander… or you're not."

The orange-haired man sighed harshly. "You keep saying things like that, then never explain what you're really saying!" he complained. "Why can't you just tell me what the Program is all about besides finding a new commander? I don't even know why the Baron wants a replacement for you! I've seen you on the field, you're the best! You get all your work done. The guards both fear and respect you."

"Ask Nana," the alpha told him, his hands clenching the steering handles as he rolled his shoulders. "She knows as well as I do what the Commander Program is. I'm not able to tell you."

Erol huffed in annoyance, crossing his arms and dropped backwards into his seat as he turned his head away. The commander gets like that every time he asks anything concerning the Program. Well, at least now he knows someone he can ask and get straight answers from.

Torn stole a quick glance to the irritated omega next to him, smirking as he shook his head. He doesn't really know why he likes this omega so much, probably because he has some serious backbone and isn't the type to lay there and take shit. But the more he thinks about the end that will be upon them eventually, the more he didn't want to say anything about it. If only to keep the peace between them a while longer. A baby will just complicate everything.

 **Here the Chapter Ends**

 **Short, I know. Don't tell me. I had a hard enough time thinking about this chapter.**

 **So a bit of backstory for the boys from my POV. To clear everything up, Erol was raised by his mother and they had little to nothing. He never knew his father, and that will be explored later on. Torn lost his entire family in a bombing incident and is now the only surviving member.**

 **The voice of the chapter is Erol's mother with the occasional line from little Erol. I was thinking random lines from Torn's family, like he was remembering things they said, but I thought that would be a bit too much.**

 **Anyway, hope you guys enjoyed it. Let me know what you think! ^^**


	4. The Discovery

**So now we get another bit of backstory this chapter. Two bits, actually. Wait and see! ^^**

 **Disclaimer: Nope. Do not own anything Jak and Daxter related beyond my own game copies.**

 **Here the Chapter Starts**

 _The Commander Program is a cruel thing, born from the despicable mind of our 'glorious' Baron._

It didn't make any sense. Not to him. All the training, the missions, the praising. All for what?

Erol had difficulty focusing the day after he was told, even through it was hours spent processing the new information. Torn seemed to know what was bothering him, saying that training for the day is canceled and they went back to his apartment. No missions are on their plates, so they were basically able to take a day off without too much repercussion.

 _My husband was the commander when King Damas was still in charge. And under his very nose, Praxis developed the Program._

There was no sex involved as they laid on the bed. He just curled up into the alpha, his head tucked against Torn's chest as he was held in return. Though his mind was sorting through everything still, the redhead was as silent as ever. Waiting for Erol to speak first.

 _At first, my husband didn't know what was making his students attack him. They simply would not stop until he killed them._

"Was that how you found out?" he asked lowly, not looking up. "You said that I'm your first student. Did you find out when you killed your commander?"

"He told me before I put the bullet in his head," Torn replied. "Warned me. All I was doing was following an order."

 _Then he found out from one of his students. He was training his replacement, but the only way to be sure that the replacement will be better than him was if the student kills him._

"How does he excuse such a thing?" Erol hissed, gripping the arm around his waist.

"He finds a way," the redhead sighed lowly. "He told me that my commander was suspected of giving information to the Metal Head leader. Blueprints of the city, easily accessible passages to get in."

"But that's what it boils down to, isn't it?" Erol asked, though knew the answer. "Either you kill me, or I kill you and become the new commander." Snorting angrily, he pushed himself up and glared at the stoic commander. "Is that why you sought this relationship with me? To mess with my head? Make it easier for you to kill me at the end of it all?!"

 _He told me as soon as he found out. And my husband killed twelve of his students until the thirteenth killed him._

"No, Erol," Torn sighed lowly, reaching up to the omega's shoulder, but Erol jerked away. "I actually do like you. A lot. I knew how this would end up, but I just wanted to be selfish for once. I never get to be selfish. Being the commander does not give me that liberty."

 _Every one of those deaths haunted him until he was killed. The Baron discarded his death as easily as claiming he died fighting a band of Metal Heads outside the walls, trying to reclaim lost land._

"But you knew!" Erol hissed, shoving Torn onto his back then straddling his waist and clutching his shoulders tightly. "You knew what would happen! What is going to happen!"

"I've been thinking about it lately, increasingly," the redhead admitted, not making any move to throw the angry omega off.

 _That's what he does. He excuses their deaths as one thing or another. You die a hero or a traitor, your name dragged through the mud or plated in gold on some plaque on the wall._

"And when were you going to stop dropping cryptic notes and actually tell me?!" the omega continued to yell angrily. "Or were you going to let me think that you actually love me until you point your fucking gun at my head?!"

"Damn it, don't you think I wanted to?" Torn hissed back, though still did nothing to push the other off. "How the hell was I supposed to tell you that it will end up with one of us killing the other? That's not an easy thing to tell someone when you're involved with them!"

 _My husband's name is on that wall. I feel that Torn's will be, too, when he is overthrown._

"Just tell me!" Erol exclaimed angrily, beating a fist onto the alpha's chest. Torn grabbed his wrists to stop the assault, but Erol still struggled to hit him in his anger. "Stop toying with me and just tell me!"

"I'm not toying with you, dumbass!" Torn denied sharply. "I think about it all the damn time now! For fuck's sake, Erol, I do care for you! I don't want to kill you! And I don't want you to kill me! Hell, if it was possible, then I would fucking mark you as mine and we could start having kids! But we can't!" Erol still struggled against his grip, but his body was starting to shake as his struggling became weaker. "We can't."

 _There is no way out of this, child. Once the Baron chose you to be Torn's protégé, to learn from him, you were bound and chained just as much as he is._

Shaky breaths escaping him, Erol lowered until his head was tucked under Torn's chin, yanking his wrists from the alpha's grip and tucking them under the redhead's shoulders. "Why does he do this?" he asked pathetically, though still angered.

"Because he's a maniac that only wants the best at his side," Torn scoffed, petting the orange hair ticking against his jaw. "He sees a flaw in us then sends out some random recruit he approves of to replace us. They don't always win, but neither do we."

Erol shook his head in denial. "There has to be some loophole. Maybe if we expose him-"

"He'll have us both killed," the redhead interjected. "He has ways." Dejected, he looked up at the pristine ceiling above them. "There's no loophole. No way out of this insanity." Tilting his head down to bury his nose into the soft orange hair, he added, "I'm sorry, Erol. We should not have gotten this involved with each other."

 _I feel my old heart breaking for the two of you. Whoever wins is the one that will suffer most._

 **Here is a line!**

Krew is a useful man to have in his pocket. Granted, having any sort of affiliation with the morbidly obese crime lord would do nothing pleasing to the image he tries to portray to the city. Hence why he often meets with him in secret, though he does tell Ashelin. Just in case something happens, she will gain control and will inform Torn of what he has been doing, then Torn can handle things concerning Krew from there.

Such a shame, Praxis thought to himself as he linked his hands behind his back, gazing out upon the city from the height of his palace. Torn is a damn fine commander to have, but after a while, he started acting… off. After nearly two months of being the commander, Torn started to question the baron's orders and decisions. That cannot be allowed. He has many things to hide, even from his own people. Especially from his own people.

Torn keeps on questioning or asking Ashelin for her opinions whenever he thinks that Praxis is out of earshot. He would like to hold onto Torn for a while longer. After all, he is a fine commander that the men respect. But with the increasing alarms rising in his mind, he knows that he would need to replace the man eventually.

Thus Erol. Though an omega, and from a rather pitiful and pathetic background, he's tough. At first, he didn't know what to think about the recruiters letting in an omega, even thinking that they only let him in to be a toy for the alphas that make up a majority of the ranks. When he heard about the first incident concerning Erol, he was prepared to have to cover up a rape.

Instead, he was staring at a completely nonchalant omega that thought his fingers were more fascinating than the story the baron was being told by the drill instructor. That the skinny omega boy, just recruited, brought down four alphas, well-trained men that have been in the Guard for at least two years. All he got in return was a sore scalp from having his hair yanked and some blood in his mouth from when he bit one that grabbed him. Otherwise, the omega was safe and sound.

And tough, he realized as time passed on. Erol made a name for himself during his training years, as both a model student and an omega no one could touch. He knew that throwing such an omega at Torn would be beneficial. A strong soldier, no matter biological status, that is highly intelligent learning from his best commander. And best of all, he follows his orders without any questions.

But he still needs to test how far the training for his (hopefully) new commander is coming. Hence, his deal with Krew. The crime lord told him about one of his former agents, a sleaze-ball referred to as Kard. The man has a way of getting around town, ways that may have been leaked to the enemy forces beyond the walls. Thanks to his association with Krew, he now knows of a potential threat in the form of Kard.

Perhaps sending Erol after Kard alone will suffice as a test. Most missions he has done were also used as training by Torn, meaning he was never alone. Sometimes, that is how a Commander must be in order to properly follow his orders. So he needs to know how well Erol can handle a mission on his own before making the call. It would be a waste to jump the gun too early and he loses a valuable commander.

Tomorrow, Praxis decided. He will give the omega a chance to truly prove himself, as well as test how well trained he is.

 **Here is a line!**

"Sir, he's only been in training for five months," Torn tried to persuade, thoroughly ignoring the indignant glare that Erol was pointing his direction. "He's not ready."

"How can I know for certain if he never leaves your side, Commander?" the baron threw back calmly. "Your reports say that he is learning quickly. He is good with both pistol and rifle. Put him on a vehicle and nothing can catch him. Or was I reading all your reports incorrectly?"

"No, sir," Torn replied, hand clenching behind his back. "But he hasn't faced more than a few Metal Heads on his own. The location of his mission is known to be swarming with the enemy. Sending him in alone, with no vehicle to use to get around, is shipping him to the slaughterhouse."

"I can handle it," Erol commented with a glare.

"No, you can't," Torn told his sharply, returning his glare with his own icy gaze. Erol actually flinched back upon seeing it. "There have been reports of Ramheads in that area. You've never faced one. As well as Centurions and Slingers." He looked back to Praxis, who was not showing whether he was accepting or rejecting the fact that Torn is speaking back to him. "Sir, he's not ready."

Praxis scoffed with a wave of his large hand. "We will never know for certain until you let go of his leash, Commander," he pointed out. "If he cannot handle such a task after spending five months of you training him, then perhaps he doesn't deserve to become Commander. But I make that decision, not you. I need to know how he fares alone. So he will do this mission, and you will stay here. Am I in any way unclear?"

Letting out a low exhale, Torn's posture stiffened as he shook his head. "No, sir," he answered. "Your orders are understood."

Smirking, Praxis turned to Erol, who snapped to attention instantly. "Are your orders clear?"

"Yes, sir!" he replied firmly.

"Good. Now, get to it." The two turned and started to head for the door, but before Erol could follow behind Torn, Praxis called out, "Oh, bring me proof of his death. I don't care what. I want confirmation that this problem will no longer be a problem."

"Understood," Erol accepted, nodding to the baron over his shoulder before he left the room. Only to be grabbed by his shoulder and nearly slammed into a wall once the door closed behind him. The only reason his back didn't hit a wall was because he planted his feet and pushed back against the force trying to shove him. "What the hell is your problem?!"

"Nothing about this feels right," Torn told him. "You're not ready."

"Like hell I'm not!" Erol hissed, gripping the wrist pressing against his shoulder. "Why are you so against me having this mission?"

"Because you're not ready to do a solo mission," the alpha answered, his hand releasing Erol's shoulder and jerking back out of the omega's grip. "Everywhere I go, you go. Every mission outside these walls, I am with you.

"If done improperly, this mission is essentially a suicide mission if done solo. You're being thrown into a mob of Metal Heads, some you haven't fought against before, and you're not taking any of it seriously! Like this will be some walk around the palace! You're not thinking of any risk factors, potentially enemy numbers, or anything concerning the traitor.

"You're too damn smart to be acting like you're invincible, Erol. You know better and I know I trained you better than that!"

"I can handle it because of your training," Erol informed, pushing the alpha away from him. "I'm not going in helpless. I do know what I'm doing. And I don't always need you around to handle some Metal Heads."

"It's not just a handful out there, idiot," Torn snarled, pacing to expel energy building up from his anxiety. Omega or no, Erol is a damn good student. Even though Torn knows how it will end, and now Erol does too, he actually does like the headstrong, short-tempered, prideful man. And he doesn't want to risk losing him like this.

"I know," Erol told him with a low sigh.

Torn kept pacing, then inhaled deeply to calm himself. "You're not ready, but defying the baron isn't a smart idea," he admitted in defeat. Looking over to Erol, he gave him the same glare he gave to unruly soldiers, the very one that demanded respect and obedience. "Consistent radio contact. You will have a beacon on you at all times. If you are overrun, you will activate it for immediate assistance, whether as evac or reinforcement. Am I clear?"

"Yes, sir," Erol chuckled, saluting the redhead before purring lowly. "You should bring that attitude to bed at some point. It's actually quite sexy."

Smirking and letting out a small huff through his nose, Torn replied, "Only if you actually listen and make it back in one piece. Prepare yourself then we'll go to the gate to Dead Town."

Erol pouted, kicking the floor as he muttered, "I can get there by myself."

 **Here is a line!**

Dead Town only earned such a name because of the Metal Heads invading it, destroying everything they touch and killing anyone they could sink their claws into. Ghosts lingered around every corner, dead and broken tree limbs reaching out of the toxic water like hands of the deceased reaching to grab any that lingered too close. Every brush of the wind stirred dust in the crumbling stone structures, a ledge crumbling if irritated enough.

Though once as lively as the rest of Haven City, the only residents of Dead Town are now the vermin that crawled out of the muck and Metal Heads. The vermin are easy to dispatch with a few well-placed shots. Then the Metal Heads started trying to encroach upon his presence, drawn in by the sound of his gun firing.

 _Metal Heads are everywhere once you are beyond these walls. Any sound that seems off to them will draw them right to you._

With a small microphone near his mouth, Torn is able to hear every fight he is going through. And he can hear the commander chuckling at him through the communication device in his ear as he swore and cursed the beasts continuously charging at him. He's had to hide away three times, waiting impatiently for the creatures to lose interest in him and move on. The grunts were easy enough to handle, but he was also dodging types he hasn't seen before, having to hide behind crumbling walls to wait for a break in their fire or a pause long enough to shoot back.

 _Slingers attack from a distance, so you will have to shoot them while you dodge. Ramheads are armored on top, so wait until they rear up and shoot their bellies. Dodge them every time they charge._

 _Obviously. I'm not a child lacking common sense, Torn._

It took him much longer to reach the last known location of the traitor than he would have preferred. But as tired as he is, as low on ammo as he is, he finally arrived at the patchwork of a building. Windows shuttered to block wind from entering, and light form seeping out at night. Sheets of metal, some with rust sprinkled across the panels, made up most of the wall, the sheet at odd angles to effectively cover a hole underneath. Rotting wood framed most of the windows and the door.

 _Do not shoot first thing. We need to know what Kard told the enemy so that we can prepare for it if they use the information._

Erol snorted with a roll of his golden eyes, telling himself to take a shower as soon as he can once back in the city. Opening his end of the channel so that he could hear the commander, he said, "Last known location of the target found."

"Proceed with caution," Torn instructed. "Assume target is armed and dangerous, especially if they are surviving out there."

"Understood," he accepted, pulling out his pistol and pointing it downward for now. He could hear movement inside, but until he knows exactly what it is, he can't fire until he receives the information he was instructed to get. "Going in."

 _If he shoots at me first?_

 _You know how to shoot to incapacitate. Or am I judging wrong whenever you're at the shooting range?_

Shoulder first, he slammed into the door. It collapsed from the force, the frame groaning as dust fell from the wall. He pulled back a step to cover his nose and avoid breathing in the dust, holding his pistol out in case of a hostile jumping out. Some movement inside, but nothing lunging for him.

 _Just keep your eyes open and remain aware of your surroundings at all times. Make sure every enemy is dead before exposing your back._

Slowly, cautiously, he stepped through the opening and into the threshold, eyes darting to investigate every shadow and ratty fabric that shifted. An airy chuckle mocked him before a series of harsh coughs. "So, the Baron finally sends one of his crocodogs after me," the voice drawled, scratching and dry.

"Are you Kard?" Erol demanded, aiming the pistol to the grubby man hunched in the shadows.

 _Remember to keep your temper in check before you do something stupid. Don't look at me like that, Erol. You have a short fuse, don't argue._

The man coughed, looking up and regarding the omega with cold hazel eyes, graying orange hair hanging around his face in dirty clumps. "You look familiar, boy," he spat.

"Are you Kard?" the omega repeated, harsher this time.

"Oh, yes," the man chuckled then started coughing again. "I've seen you before. When I was younger… in the mirror." He started to laugh, shakily rising to his feet and stepping into the poor lighting streaming in through the busted door.

 _Just keep your calm, no matter what you hear or see._

Erol's eyes grew wide when he saw the man's features, similar to his own, though aged. Shakily, his pistol lowered until it was pointing to the man's bare feet. Torn was speaking into his ear, demanding to know what is going on, but Erol couldn't get a word out.

"So, which bitch bore you?" the man taunted, looking him over. "The stall worker at the bazaar? Maid at the palace? No, no, no, not her. You're too old for it to have been her. You look nothing like them anyway. But those eyes, I do remember those eyes. From where, though?"

 _What do you take me for, Torn? I can remain calm when the situation calls for it._

"You're messing with me head!" he accused, his arms snapping back up to aim the pistol at the man's head. "Now tell me, are you Kard?"

"Yes, that is what most call me," he replied, coughing into his hand. When his hand pulled away, spots of blood reflected light. "I knew how to get all the information when I play my cards just right. So I earned my name. Kard." His eyes squinted at Erol, then lit up in recognition. "Now I know! Your mother must have been that sick whore in the Water Slums!"

"Shut up!" he shouted angrily.

 _You have no idea how much I doubt that._

"Has she die yet?" Kard pressed. "Bitch was hardly any fun when I had her."

"I said shut up!" Erol snapped, his fingers squeezing the trigger. Torn is still trying to demand answers, but Erol jerked the device from his ear, letting it hang limply over his shoulder.

The bullet pierced Kard's shoulder, the force jerking him back as his hand flew to his injured shoulder. The man cried out in pain, teeth gritting as he glared to the omega. "Some first impression you're making to your own father, brat!"

"I don't have a father," Erol growled, stomping to the man and grabbing the arm pressing against the wound. Even with the device hanging, he could still hear Torn trying to talk to him. "Never have, no matter what you try to say or pull. And don't you **ever** insult my mother again."

Kard laughed harshly, the sound grating on Erol's ears. "Only said the truth, boy. Your mother was just another whore in the slums, spreading her legs for cheap."

"She was my mother!" he yelled, raising the pistol and slamming it down onto Kard's head. The man crumbled to the floor, clutching his injured head. "You are just a piece of shit! You're pitiful! The fact that you had to pay just to get any sex should say plenty about that!"

 _I said 'when the situation calls for it'. We don't know what the situation will be just yet._

He grabbed the graying orange hair and sharply yanked Kard's head up, his lips twisted into a snarl as he crouched in front of the older man. "Now, you're going to tell me everything you told the Metal Heads. And maybe, just maybe, I'll make your death quick."

 **Here is a line!**

No normal person would be so pleased to receive a decapitated head as confirmation for a finished and successful mission. Well, 'pleased' is perhaps a bit too strong. While he was disgusted, the Baron accepted the trophy and told Erol to go home and clean up, after praising him on a job well done.

Torn knew something was wrong, having heard every word through the devices. Erol did meet his father for the first time, and on a mission to eliminate the man. Not that there was any love lost between the two. But he knows that Erol is too high strung at the moment, needs time to process everything he saw and heard.

He actually wasn't expecting Erol to come to him outside of work for a while. So hearing his door open raised alarms for him, his hand slipping under his pillow and grasping the handle of the dagger he keeps under it. Feet lightly made their way to his bedroom, the door letting out a low groan as it was opened slowly. One of the few oddities about his apartment, the interior doors actually have hinges to make sneaking in harder.

"It's me."

He let out a low breath, releasing his dagger and rolling over onto his back. "Kind of late, isn't it?" he commented.

Erol just stood in the doorway, as pitiful as a soaked rodent. "I can leave," he offered lowly.

Torn shook his head. "No need." He raised an arm invitingly, beckoning the omega to him with his fingers.

Slowly, the younger made his way to the bed, slipping under the covers and curling against Torn's side. "I'm not trying to act like a child," he defended. "I just…"

Turning to face the omega, Torn wrapped an arm around Erol's waist, pulling him as close as he could get them to be. "First time you killed someone?" he asked.

Erol shook his head, surprising the alpha before he reminded himself that Erol did grow up on the street. Either he's killed in self-defense, seen others be killed, or has nearly been killed himself.

"I know my mother was a whore," the omega confessed. "That's why I never gave my father much thought. She had no other way of supporting herself. No one wanted to hire a dying woman, or risk her disease spreading to them. But I thought that, if I ever ran into him, that actually meeting my father would… be different." His face twisted in displeasure as he spat, "He was just regular scum. Didn't give a damn as soon as he figured out who I am."

"Believe it or not, but a lot of people are like that," Torn told him, his thumb rubbing the hip his hand was resting on.

"Just tell me something," Erol said lowly, looking up at the alpha staring at him curiously. "The truth. Am I just some whore you fuck for fun, or do I mean something to you?"

Torn huffed out a weak laugh, shaking his head. "That is the dumbest question you could have ever asked," he told the other, placing a small kiss to the tattooed brow. "Of course you mean something to me." The next spot his lips touched was the nose. "I don't take just anyone to my place, to my bed." The omega's lips, which pressed against his in response. "Though to be honest, I didn't like you when we first met."

That earned a punch to his stomach, a grunt slipping out as he chuckled, rolling onto his back and allowing Erol to straddle him. "Yet two weeks later, you were shoving your dick down my throat," he pointed out.

"Spur of the moment?" Torn offered. Erol gave him a blank stare, crossing his arms as he cocked his shoulders knowingly, smirk dancing on his lip. "Fine. I found you to be very attractive."

"And?" Erol drew out, leaning down and smirking at the alpha. Torn could see what the other was actually asking for, though.

"And smart," he added on, returning Erol's smirk with his own. "Fierce. Tough. Most would think you need an attitude adjustment, but I like it when you get all pissy and fight back. Who the hell wants an omega that just rolls over and takes it with no fuss? Give me a tough bitch to dominate that will fight back against me when I get too rough any day."

"I take it I'm that 'tough bitch'?" the omega chuckled, nipping at Torn's throat.

"Toughest bitch I know, and the only one I really respect," he answered. Well, the only one still alive that he respects. "I always thought myself too strong for an ordinary omega. Finding an aggressive one like you is a rarity, and I wasn't sure if I would like you when we first met. But the more time I spent around you, the more appealing you got. Your cockiness, your sarcastic remarks, and even your verbal bites."

Brows furrowed, Erol pulled away and stared at Torn in confusion. "An aggressive omega?" he repeated, his head tilting slightly.

Torn shrugged. "The way my mother described it to me was that aggressive omegas have too much energy, and it channels to their self-preservation or self-defense instincts more than others. Enough to the point of lashing out at the smallest slight against them. He was the only aggressive omega I've known before you. Also why I keep asking you if you're in heat. Aggressive omegas don't have powerful heats like ordinary ones do. It's subtle enough that alphas like me don't pick up on it that easily, but you should know when you're in heat."

Erol rolled his eyes. "Of course I know when I'm in heat," he confirmed with a dignified snort. He lowered back down to lay on the alpha he was straddling, crossing his arms over the man's chest and placing his head on his limbs. "Torn…"

"Hm?"

His lips parted to allow words to pass through, but then they closed and he shook his head. "Nothing. Never mind."

"You can stay here any time, you know."

Erol allowed a small smile to grace his lips. "Thanks."

 **Here the Chapter Ends**

… **I think this is the longest chapter in the story. So far! Next chapter, I haven't yet decided. I think we're jumping forth to the big fight, but I feel like I can throw more things into their relationship. Dunno. We'll see.**

 **Voices of the chapter are Nana for the first bit, and the second is the conversation between Torn and Erol before he left for his mission into Dead Town.**

 **Let me know what you guys think! ^^**


	5. The Fight

**Okay. So I think I know what to do here. I think, I think, I think… Nope, not a clue! ^^ Let's just see how it goes from here. Alright?**

 **Disclaimer: The characters of the Jak and Daxter series are not mine.**

 **Here the Chapter Starts**

It was more out of a desire to keep his hands busy than a need to do it. He keeps his guns clean, residue of eco from bullets removed and any bits that seemed to look odd were fixed. Not maintaining the weapon can result in death. He maintains this one quite well, having cleaned it earlier this morning before work. And now, just to keep his hands busy.

 _You know better than most just how dangerous the Baron is._

He spent his younger years looking around and seeing the wrongs of everything. The fear in the air was nearly tangible. People not caring as someone was beaten and mugged right next to them, as children were starving and the poor unable to sustain themselves. The guards walking around like nothing was wrong with the world, pushing off anyone that dared to approach for help.

God forbid someone accidentally bumped a guard, on foot or on zoomer. Then they sprung into action, going after the offender and ignoring everything else. When he was a child, he hated how the world was. Often being dragged from yelling at a guard by his omega mother, shielded away behind his mother's legs as he stared down a guard that came too close to him or his siblings.

 _How far this city has fallen since he came into power._

After his family died, he joined the guard he hated because he wanted to make it better. To gain the power to actually make a difference. He worked hard through boot camp, completed his missions without question. When the baron selected him to learn from the commander, to eventually gain the very role of power, he was eager to learn everything as quickly as possible. Soaking up the information and lessons like a sponge.

Only he didn't realize what was happening. He took those lessons to heart and became exactly what he hated. A cold, emotionless shell of a man, following orders with no thought behind it. Seeing people as targets. It was after he killed the last commander when he started returning to himself, realizing just what he had done. He didn't feel guilty about killing the man. But he did want to stop the cycle from continuing. To make a difference.

 _It will take something quite drastic to overthrow him._

Erol, as much as he loves him, is only after a position of power because he's an omega and wants to be taken seriously. He's not trying to change their world. Even as much as he hates the future outcome as much as Torn does, he's probably already planning ahead for it. It's what the feisty omega does.

No. There will be no way of changing anything so long as he works under Baron Praxis. Which is what makes his decision so difficult. On the one hand, he has a chance of overthrowing Praxis, putting the proper ruler on the thrown, and helping bring the city back to its prosperous origins.

 _If you join me, Commander Torn, together we can do it! We can get rid of Praxis once and for all!_

On the other hand, Erol. No doubt, if things play out well enough, Erol will survive and become the new Commander of the Krimzon Guard. After all, the omega learned from him. Meaning he also knows Torn's tactics, his signatures, how his mind works. He can find a ploy and know whether or not Torn was involved.

He would also be the baron's best chance of capturing him. Really, he should just remove Erol from the picture completely. They know how their relationship will end. But he can't even think about bringing an end to that life, full of spirit and fierce attitude. Not to mention, it's better with Erol being in charge of the Guard than some newbie that doesn't know which end of the gun is supposed to be pointed to the target. Just like Erol knows him, he knows Erol.

 _What do you say?_

He snapped the final piece back into place, looking over the gun closely then placing it on his beside table. Easy for either to reach. The baron asked to speak with the omega in private, which set off blaring alarms in his mind. It's only a matter of time now. The past eight months, he would not trade them for the world. But they are at an end.

 _I'd say you need me, Shadow._

Now the question is how will Erol approach the matter. Will he bide his time, or will he simply go after him without a warning? All he can do is wait.

After all, Erol has basically moved into the apartment. He'll be home soon. And Torn will be right here waiting for him, laying out items that both can use for their final fight. The one that will end what they have, and will solve the dilemma he had been fighting with since they got together.

How does he keep them both alive?

 _Then welcome to The Underground! You may call me Samos._

 **Here is a line!**

The sun was starting to rise, bringing the morning with it. The heavy gray clouds were a sign of rain, though. It was almost anticlimactic, Torn thought, that it would be such depressing weather considering what was about to happen.

Looking down at the still slumbering Erol, he felt a twinge of guilt when he spotted the mark he left on Erol's shoulder, right where it meets his neck. An obvious place, but easy to cover up. A mark of claim, one that will not allow Erol to move on to another alpha. With a low sigh, he laid on top of the omega, who groaned in slight discomfort, lazily pushing against the larger body on him.

"Erol," he called lowly. The orange-haired man hummed in response. "I thought of something. But it's a bit… difficult."

"How so?" Erol groggily asked, turning his head to look over his shoulder. Seeing the look on Torn's face actually woke him up just enough. His expression was hard, not stoic but determined.

"Hate me. Don't love me anymore," he ordered. "And don't you dare ever forgive me."

"What are you-?" He was unable to finish his question, gasping as the short dagger the alpha was wielding buried into his side. With a snarl, he swung out, striking Torn's head and knocking him off. Gritting his teeth, he yanked the weapon from his side, throwing it to the ground where it skidded until it hit the wall, his blood dripping off the sharp edge. "This couldn't wait until I was awake and dressed?" he chuckled darkly, getting to his feet as Torn jumped to his own.

"Don't play dumb with me," Torn told him sharply. "You got the order."

Hesitantly, Erol nodded. "You're being accused of treason," he recited, playing the words over and over in his mind. "For your crimes of betraying Baron Praxis to the Underground Rebellion, you are sentenced to death." He shook his head slowly. "Did you do it?"

"My words don't matter, you have your orders," the redhead pointed out, reminding him of his lessons. When given an order, follow it. The objective is what matters.

"Yes, I do," the omega agreed, snatching the pistol from the table and pointing it to Torn. "Don't expect me to roll over and let you win."

"Don't expect me to go easy on you," Torn returned, drawing, grabbing another dagger from the dresser by him.

Bullets flew towards him, and he managed to dodge most as he lunged towards the omega, slashing his knife across the other's chest. It didn't go very deep if only because Erol moved to the side to evade. A leg was raised, striking Torn in the stomach and throwing him against a wall. He centered himself quickly, dodging another volley of bullets flying at him.

His shoulder, though bloodied from a bullet that pierced it, rammed into Erol's chest, successfully knocking him to the floor. Torn quickly grabbed his wrist, slamming it down hard enough for the omega to release the gun with a yelp as he tightened his hold on the wrist. He buried the blade into the omega's shoulder, feeling the metal scraping bone and tearing muscle the further it went. Instead of a cry of pain, a smirk was sent his way before Erol snapped his head forth, cracking their foreheads against one another.

The redhead jumped off, rubbing his forehead as he shook his head to clear his vision. Just in time. The omega was already on his feet and tackled Torn to the wall, slamming him against it. Torn quickly grabbed his arm and shoved him back, twisting them until Erol was chest against the wall, his arm pinned to his back, and Torn pressing against him.

"Well, this seems familiar," Erol chuckled darkly, bringing up his leg then slamming his foot down onto Torn's knee.

The alpha yelled out, releasing his grip as his knee was nearly broke, but he grabbed the leg aiming for his head and jerked the other to the ground, bringing his fist down to his injured chest. The wind was knocked out of him, making it difficult for the omega to breathe as Torn continued assaulting his chest and stomach with punches.

More of a desperate attempt to stop the other, he reached up and grabbed Torn's tattooed ear, yanking on it harshly. It was enough to bring the alpha down in surprise, the two rolling on the ground and exchanging blows until they split apart, bruises blooming on their skin as they panted.

Blood was spilling from Erol's mouth from a split lip, and from Torn's nose from the omega landing a well-aimed punch. However, the omega was closer to the dresser than the bed, which is where Torn was. He reached underneath it and staggered to his feet, pulling out a long metal rod. Erol's eyes widened when he saw it, though he gritted his teeth and yanked the dagger buried in his shoulder.

He hissed as he pulled it out, blood gushing from the deep wound. When it was finally out, he was pulling with enough force for a trail of blood to arc into the air. Just as Torn brought the pipe down to his head, he held up the blade, knocking it off course and swiping towards the alpha. He cut Torn's face, just under his left cheekbone.

However, Torn had more length on his pipe than Erol does with the short blade. He struck at the omega's legs, bringing him to the ground. He could hear the crack of bone from the strike, as well as Erol's yell. His knee was starting to discolor from free-flowing blood. Standing over the panting omega, he propped the pipe on his shoulder. Erol glared up at him, teeth coated with blood from his lip and possibly even his tongue.

They know who won. "Do it," Erol dared him.

His hand tightened around the pipe before snapping down, bringing the metal with it. It struck Erol's head, knocking him unconscious. Still standing over the limp body, he panted heavily, his eyes tracing the trail of blood seeping from the orange hair. Some strands were even catching the red, clumping them together over the wound. Fractured skull, if he was to guess. Meaning a bad concussion.

The life fluid still gushed out of the open wound in his shoulder, probably from a nicked artery. The stream coming from the wound on his chest was already drying, and the stab to his side was leaving a puddle on the floor. It had flowed blood all the way down to Erol's feet, leaving bloody footprints all over their fighting area. Most of his body was covered with bruising, and his leg even looks like it was twisted wrong.

He wasn't without injury either. At least four bullet wounds, one to his shoulder, one grazing a lung, the third hit his thigh, and the fourth almost pierced his right elbow. Several bruises, including the one around his eye if the throbbing pain was any indication. Some of the punches that the omega landed were powerful enough to tear his skin is some places, leaving small lacerations behind. He brought a hand up to swipe at the trail of blood seeping from the cut on his cheek.

Swallowing thickly, he dressed himself and left the apartment. Though not numerous, the injuries Erol does have can kill him if he catalogued them properly. He was pretty sure he stabbed through at least one organ with that first strike, if not cutting a second one on the way in. And the way the blade is made, removing it can do a lot more tissue damage than most.

Knocking on the apartment door down the hall, he waited impatiently for it to open. Within half a minute, the door opened and Nana was staring up at him with wide eyes. He didn't bother cleaning his injuries, too rushed to do much than put his clothes on. "Oh, Torn," she gasped, looking him over with her eyes. Her lips drew in, afraid to spill what she wanted to ask.

"I need you to do a favor for me, Nana," he told her. "Take care of Erol."

"He's… You didn't…?"

Torn shook his head. "No. He's alive, but he does need medical attention."

The elderly woman nodded sharply. "I'll take good care of him, Torn." She grasped his hand and patted his knuckles fondly. "Do try to stay out of trouble, dear. The world could use more men like you in it, and it would be a shame to lose you."

He gave her a small smile. "I'll try, but not likely." He pulled his hand from her grip and turned to leave. "Excuse me, Nana. I have to give the Baron my resignation."

 **Here is a line!**

It was weeks before he was released from the hospital, the doctors wanting to evaluate his mental stability even after his injuries healed. After all, he was nearly killed by his own mate. That alone would mess up any omega, should they survive.

 _All your vitals seem to be stable._

Not Erol, though. Mainly because the two were mentally preparing for the fight to happen. What confused him was Torn marking him. His hand rubbed at the scar on his collar without him really being aware of it. The upcoming fight was the reason why Torn refused to claim him. Hell, he had to lie about his heat just to get a potential child out of their relationship.

 _Your bloodwork suggests nothing beyond normal._

One thing was for certain, the baron won't risk getting rid of the one man Torn seems unable to kill. The one that can fight back against him. That knows him better than most. Due to the risk of Torn defeating any commander after Erol, the Program was put on hold. Leaving Erol as the one and only Commander of the Krimzon Guard, no threat of being undermined by a student. So long as Torn is with the Underground, proves to be a threat to Baron Praxis, Erol's position is safe.

 _And your psychological evaluation results reveal that you are not dealing with PTSD or any mental trauma from the event._

Granted, Praxis was also wary of having the omega so close since Torn did claim him. But after he was reassured (quite a few times) that the marking was on Torn's part and his opinion was not taken into account, probably done as a way of pissing Erol off, he accepted it and moved on. Which was perfect for Erol. The baron eventually took it as a good thing as well since the mark would keep the omega from being distracted by other alphas. And the alpha that put it there is nowhere near stupid enough to try and come after him.

 _I could have told you all that._

Safely inside the apartment, already cleaned out after Torn's defection and Erol's promotion, he fell onto the couch and dropping his head into his hands. On the one hand, they're both alive. On the other, his mate did attack him. The injuries he made could have killed him, cause him to bleed out before help could arrive. Nana found him quickly, though, using her own stash of green eco to stabilize him while waiting for him to be picked up and taken to the hospital.

… _There was nothing odd in my bloodwork? At all?_

His breath hitched sharply, eyes squeezing shut. Not PTSD, nor traumatized over the entire ordeal. Just heartbroken. Angry. He wants to hunt Torn down and show him what happens when one pisses off an omega. And he is more than just pissed off.

 _Is there something you're looking for in particular, Commander?_

The door opened silently, though he did feel a shift in the air. He took a deep breath to steady himself, though did not lift his head yet. He won't be seen as a weak omega, ruled by his heart and emotions.

"Erol?"

 _No, Baron Praxis. I just want to be sure that there is nothing that can come back and remove me from work._

"Leave me alone, Nana," he growled, glaring up at her as she approached.

"Nonsense," she disregarded, sitting next to him. "You're hurting, dear. And I can't just leave you to wallow in your self-pity."

 _Well then, doctor. Is there anything off with his bloodwork?_

She sighed lowly as he lowered his head again, refusing to acknowledge her presence. "You know, Torn came to get me after your fight," she confessed. "Then he went after the Baron. To turn in his resignation, he said."

"He attacked the baron," Erol informed.

"I thought he would," Nana chuckled lowly. "Sending you to Torn was a blessing, child. Don't ever doubt that. But trying to ruin that blessing was just the final straw for the poor dear. He's secured you both this way. Even though it hurts now, no matter how angry you get with him, he did this with the best of intentions."

 _Nothing at all, Baron Praxis._

Erol shook his head. "It doesn't feel anything like that. Best intentions? He marked me. I can't find another to take as a mate, even if I wanted to. And I can't have him anymore!"

She patted his knee softly. "He joined the Underground to help remove the baron from the throne. Should he succeed, you two will truly be free to be together."

 _Are you satisfied by that answer, Commander?_

… _Yes, sir._

"He knows I will be duty bound to stop him," Erol reminded. "We will just keep reaching for each others throats for as long as this is going on." Shaking his head, he bitterly added, "There will never be any peace."

Nana patted him again before transferring her hand from his knee to his back, rubbing small circles between his shoulder blades. "Do not stress so much, dear," she advised. "It isn't good for you or the baby."

He blinked, looking to her in shock. "What?" But his bloodwork didn't show anything out of the ordinary. He's not pregnant. It's been weeks since the fight and nothing is showing up in his blood.

"Don't look so surprised, young man," she playfully scolded as she rose back to her feet. "I raised four children, two of them omega boys. And both tried to hide their first pregnancies from me. Granted, one wanted to surprise me and the other was accidental. I know what to look for."

"But… my bloodwork… nothing has… How?"

She scoffed, waving her hand in the air. "Blood won't show anything for a little while longer. That or the little one knows how important it is to stay hidden. I can only imagine what the baron would do if he found out you are carrying his former commander's child." She tugged his ear playfully then cupped his cheeks with her palms and made him look up at her. "If you need any help, just remember that I'm right down the hall."

Nodding in acceptance, he allowed a small smile to grace his lips. "Thank you, Nana."

 **Here the Chapter Ends**

 **There is the fight. Erol is having baby. Eventually, we come back to chapter one.**

 **Now, the voices should be pretty obvious. First conversation was Samos as 'The Shadow' and Torn. The second was the doctor first, Erol, then the baron.**

 **We shall see how things go from here. Funny, since I started this, I also got another idea concerning Razer and Mizo. And that is a different bundle of drama. Then I am debating about two different outcomes concerning little Tryk. You'll see how it goes later. If I do the Razer and Mizo story, then I may post two different stories concerning Tryk. We'll see.**

 **Let me know what you guys think! ^^**


	6. Tryk

**Okay, going to be wrapping this up soon then will be starting on two different scenarios concerning Tryk because I got two different ideas running around my head. Or maybe… I can still use both for one story… if I play my cards right… Yeah. Ideas are running.**

 **Getting ahead of myself! Onward with this story first!**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own anything Jak and Daxter related beyond a hard copy and the PS4 download.**

 **Here the Chapter Starts**

He believes that Nana may have been right. Either that, or he's one of the few omegas that go through pregnancy with hardly any signs beyond some weight gain. The swelling was easy enough to cover up, especially during the winter months. When he gets a little sick, he passes it off as bad rations and no one argues with him because they know that the rations do go bad sometimes.

Nana has been quite helpful during his pregnancy, too. Whenever he first woke up feeling queasy, she was already there with a cup of tea she swore up and down would soothe the stomach. After the first cup, he nearly begged her for more. She kept him out of trouble at home, gave him advice, and even bought him a few baby things that he knows she can't afford. He does pay her back, of course, even if she refuses. He just slips it into her apartment where she'll find it then acts oblivious when she tries to return it. Key word, tries.

For a while, he was concerned about the lack of growth. Nana told him that there are the rare pregnancies where not even the mother knows they're carrying. Erol suspects he would have been one of those if Nana hadn't said anything when he got back from the hospital.

So far, things have been going well enough. Keeping uninvited company out was not that difficult, seeing as he can easily block them at the door if anyone did try to visit. Meaning no one but Nana has seen any obvious evidence of him prepping his apartment for a baby. The Baron, when he needs the omega after his work hours are done, simply calls and Erol goes right back to work, no matter how tired or sore or irritated he is.

It was one of his lucky nights when he was actually left alone. The shipment to the Metal Heads was taken care of, and there are no lose criminals beyond Underground. He hasn't been called in to go after anyone in particular, which would generally mean Torn was spotted. Whenever someone reports having seen the former Commander, the Baron follows up on it and will usually send Erol after him. However, Torn has been laying low lately, or got better at covering up his markings.

Regardless, he was hoping for a peaceful, restful night. Even with the twinges of pain he would feel occasionally, he expected a good night's rest would take it away. He has nothing to worry about beyond getting a few hours of sleep. Or so he thought.

It was nearing midnight when he was yanked from his sleep with a harsh pain that made him yell out in surprise, his body curling into a ball. Then he felt the dampness of his bedding under him. As late in his pregnancy as he is, he took to sleeping in just a shirt, in case of something like this happening. There's just one problem, he realized as he gritted his teeth while another wave of pain washed over him.

"No, you're too early," he hissed to the baby trying to force its way into the world. "Three weeks too early!"

For a brief moment, he managed to experience a reprieve from the pain only for it to strike him fiercer than before. Apparently, the baby decided that three weeks early is not that big of a problem.

"Shit!" he swore, pushing himself out of bed. He paused for another contraction to pass then got to his feet, staggering into the bathroom. His hands gripped the counter as his body flared in pain once more, his jaws clenched while he fought to keep his legs from collapsing. Once able to, he opened the cabinet and dragged out a small stack of towels.

Maybe if he's able to, he can reach his communicator to call Nana. He would feel guilty about waking her so late at night, but he doesn't know what to do. Only that the baby is coming out and will need to be wrapped in something warm and dry. The only thing he can think of right now, since his water broke while he was in bed, are the towels.

As he was about to step back into the bedroom to try and call the elderly woman, another contraction hit him hard enough for his legs to give out. His arm wrapped around his extended stomach as his other hand gripped the counter for balance, a cry escaping his mouth. Is it supposed to hurt this much?!

He tried to get his legs back under him, but they shook and refused to lift him back up. Twisting his body enough to sit properly, he leaned against the wall, biting his lip hard enough to draw blood as he panted through another spasm. They're getting closer together.

"Not where I wanted to be when you decide to come out," he informed, clenching the towel in one hand. "But you're not really giving me much choice here." He let out another yell of pain, his legs bending as his body tensed.

 **Here is a line!**

Everything was muffled as he woke the following morning, his arms wrapped around a squirming bundle as crying echoed into his ears. He could make out words from the two blurry figures around him.

 _Is that…? Was he…?!_

Red. One has red hair. Torn? No, too brightly colored. Voice is too high.

 _Erol? Erol, dear. Let me have the baby. You're sick._

No, he's not. He wanted to argue, his grip tightening around the crying mass he was holding. What's happening?

 _What is wrong with him?_

Go away, he thought he hissed to them. This is his baby. No one else will touch it. His!

 _He didn't get proper care after the birth. He has an infection. He's a bit feverish and probably doesn't know what is happening around him._

One of the blurry figures crouched by him, hands gently falling to his bare knee. He jerked back, falling to the floor but managing to keep his baby safe from the fall.

 _I have to tell-_

 _No! Absolutely not!_

The closest figure didn't try to approach anymore, holding their hands up in a placating gesture. He tried to blink away the blurring vision, only taking in a couple features. Why does he feel so hot?

 _If the Baron finds out about the baby, he will quickly realize who the father is. Erol and the baby both will be in danger then!_

He pushed himself away only a couple inches by using his feet on the wall. The closer figure rose and turned. The sound of running water filled the room, though the two were still conversing.

 _The baby is Torn's. That's why Erol kept it a secret._

They knelt back down. He snarled as they reached for him, curling himself around the still crying newborn. Instead of a strike, cool relief was draped over his forehead. His lips relaxed from their intimidating gesture, his eyes sliding halfway down as he left out a soft sigh.

 _Torn? The former commander of the Krimzon Guard? The traitor?!_

His body tensed up again, legs drawing up to try and ball around the baby. The cold dampness was removed and water ran again, then returned in half a minute.

 _Don't you worry yourself, child. I'll do what I can to help you._

Beeping. Rapid, loud beeping. Was someone calling him? He can't answer. His baby is crying. There are people he doesn't recognize in his apartment. Who the hell is calling him?!

 _Before you answer that, dear girl, I want you to really think about what you will say. And the consequences of it._

Where is his alpha? He doesn't feel well. The baby needs something. Strangers in their home. He needs his alpha!

… _Yes, I'm at Erol's. He's sick. And it looks pretty bad._

Danger. Danger will eventually come in. He tried to sit up, still holding his baby as close to his chest as he could. It was wiggling out of the towel he wrapped it in, throwing its chubby arms around. Hands on his shoulder, soft voice shushing him soothingly.

 _I looked him over. He hid an injury from his last mission. One of the Metal Heads got him pretty good on his side and it hadn't been treated. Looks like a bad infection. He's delusional right now and I'm trying to calm him down enough to help him._

Metal Heads? No, not in his home. Not near his baby. Wait, was he injured? He doesn't think he was. Then again, everything hurts. Everything burns.

 _No, I don't need help. I just need to convince him to take some antibiotics. I'll call you later with an update on his condition._

He couldn't keep his eyes open much longer, the lids fluttering down only for him to force them open again. Golden orbs darted every direction possible, trying to process what they were seeing. Tense muscles started to relax as he started to fade back into unconsciousness.

 _You did a good thing, child. Now, help me take care of them._

 **Here is a line!**

The next time he woke, he buried his face into his blanket with a groan. The light hit him in the eyes due to an open curtain letting in the sun. Once adjusted to the brightness, he scanned around the room only to jump up. "Where's-?!"

"The old woman has him," someone answered, bringing his attention to the young red-haired woman sitting in his doorway. "I think she called herself Nana."

Well, he thought to himself, at least someone trustworthy has his baby. "What are you doing here, Ashelin?" he scowled.

"My father sent me to come get you after you were three hours late to work," she explained, tapping one foot on the ground. "The old woman let me in and we found you in the bathroom, with dried blood on the floor and you holding a baby."

"Where are they?" he demanded.

"In the kitchen," she answered, jerking her head over her shoulder. "Relax. She said she's not taking him out of here."

'Him'? A boy, he recalled, remembering wrapping the screaming newborn with tired hands. His baby boy.

"Erol," she called, regaining his attention. "I don't know how much of our conversation you heard earlier, or remember. But that woman – Nana – said that your child's father is the traitor, Torn."

Glaring at her, he pushed himself up into a seated position, biting back a groan of pain. "And what do you plan on doing with that information?" he challenged once he was upright.

"You're not denying it," Ashelin noted, her eyes narrowing. "Are you still in contact with him?"

Erol shook his head with a low chuckle. "Use your head," he told her harshly. "Pregnancies last roughly nine months. The math adds up to the conception being before he defected. So no, I am not still in contact with Torn. He doesn't know about the baby, and he won't unless he decides to slip in here just to piss me off." He nudged his head in the direction of his apartment door. "They never delete the codes. That's why Nana is able to enter. Her husband was a commander before he died. Their entry code is still programmed into it. So if Torn popped by for a visit, his code will still allow him access."

"That's dangerous," Ashelin commented as she stood, a hand on her hip.

"I guess since the commanders usually die before the new one takes over the position, they didn't see a reason to get rid of the old access codes," he disregarded with a wave of his hand.

"It's still a severe security risk and should be dealt with," she adamantly replied, already turning to see what she can do. "Especially considering that Torn is still at large and can find you as the easiest target."

"Leave it," he ordered, pulling out a pistol and aiming it at her. "We still need to finish our talk."

The redhead stared at him with a dark glare, but sat back down since the commander is pointing a weapon at her. He can get away with a lot, and she can do nothing to stop him. She may be the daughter of the baron, and he the Commander of the Krimzon Guard, but she is powerless to stop him. He won't listen to her and ignores every order unless delivered by her father.

"Now, I want your word that Baron Praxis will hear nothing about my child," he ordered, not moving his aim from her chest.

"He will eventually find out," she tried to argue. "The longer you keep him a secret, the worse it will be. Just tell him that the conception was before Torn defected like you told me. He won't-"

"Yes, he will," Erol informed coldly. "He will brand me a traitor, charge me with treason, and take my child away. I will never see him again, if I live past the baron's judgement. Even if he does accept the explanation as you have, I will be under consistent surveillance until he is satisfied, then he'll twist my arm into getting my son early training to being the perfect minion for him." He shook his head, giving Ashelin a sickening smirk. "I will not allow it. And the only way to prevent it is to keep him a secret."

She huffed irritably. "You don't know that for a fact."

"To say that simply tells me that you do not know your own father," Erol scoffed, lips twitching into a sneer. "Dig into his files at some point and see what kind of person he is. But I already know because I am his right hand. So I know exactly what he will do if he finds out about my child."

Ashelin sighed, rubbing her forehead with a low groan. "Alright. What do you want?"

"Your silence. You do not tell your father about my son and you save two lives." Shakily, he got to his feet, still holding the gun but no longer pointing it at the heiress. "Non-negotiable."

The redhead jumped to her feet as he walked around her to leave the room, practically stomping after him. "You are asking me to betray my father's trust!" she exclaimed. "And not even trying to offer me anything for my silence? Just say 'stay quiet' and automatically expect it?"

Sharply, he spun on his heel and slammed her against the wall. "You… know… nothing," he slowly informed. "Think of it like this. You keep your silence, and the child of the man you're in love with is safe."

"You don't know what you're talking about," she defended.

"Oh, please," he spat. "I followed Torn around for months. I saw the way you practically flaunt yourself at him, throwing yourself into his arms. Well, I had him. He was mine! His child? Mine! Now, as much as you do not like me, I know exactly how you feel towards Torn. Keep quiet, and you do not endanger his child. It is as simple as that.

"So yes, I do tell you to shut up and expect it to happen. I do expect you to listen for once in your life and keep my child a secret. Not because he is my son, but because his father is Torn. And with a traitor for a father, he will be used against him. He will be put into danger. And I will be powerless to stop it because I will be rotting in a cell!" Giving her a firm push into the wall, he stepped away and headed towards the kitchen where he could hear Nana cooing.

Stepping into the room, he paused and allowed a smile to grace his lips. Wrapped securely in a blanket, held in the arm of a woman he is actually glad to call a friend. Bright baby blue eyes stared at him, the bundled body squirming upon seeing him. Nana looked over then scolded, "You should be resting, young man!"

"I feel better," he reassured, though dropped himself into the chair nearby. Holding out his arms, he eagerly asked, "Can I have my son back?" She huffed exasperatedly, but still shuffled over to him and bent over to ease the baby into his waiting arms. Once secured by his hold, Erol brought the newborn to his chest and leaned back, smiling down at the face staring up at him in bewilderment. "Hey there," he whispered softly, gently bouncing his arms. Baby blue eyes widened at the motion, earning a laugh from the omega.

"I fed him a bottle of formula once we managed to get him from you earlier, and he just had another one about five minutes ago," Nana informed him. "It would be best to use the formula until your infection is gone. Then you can safely breast-feed him without risk of your infection transferring to him."

"How bad is the infection?" he inquired, glancing up at her.

"Well, we hopefully caught it early enough for it to not do much other than make you a little delirious with fever. Take some medicine and it should be gone in a couple of days," the elderly woman replied as she turned back to the stove, both hands free to handle the steaming pot. "I made you some soup in case solids are too much for your stomach to handle."

"You don't have to mother me so much, Nana," he sighed, though smiled at her with a shake of his head.

"Who else will make sure you stay out of trouble?" she teased back, her gaze drifting up from him to stare behind him. "Will you be staying for a late lunch, child?"

Erol barely turned his head, but knew exactly whom Nana was speaking to. After all, Ashelin is the only other person in the apartment. "I should really get back to my father and give him an update on Erol's 'infected wound'," she denied, shaking her head. As she turned to walk away, she paused then looked to Erol. "I still think that you should tell my father. Keeping secrets from him is dangerous. But I won't say a word about the baby."

"I appreciate it," he returned with a knowing smirk, turning his attention back to his son. He listened closely as Ashelin walked away, hearing the nearly silent hiss of the door opening then closing behind her. "How long was I out?"

"About four hours," Nana replied, transferring some soup from pot to bowl. "You were quite upset when we found you." With two bowls in hand, she returned to the table he was seated at and placed them down, then took her own seat. "When did you go into labor?"

The omega shrugged. "I was probably in labor before I left work," he stated. "I felt some sharp pains starting around mid-afternoon. Brushed them off. Woke up probably before midnight and my water already broke. I went to the bathroom for towels and tried to get back to the bed, but my legs gave out and I sat there for… maybe a couple hours. Could have been three."

"The little one couldn't make up his mind, could he?" Nana chuckled, offering to take the baby so that Erol could eat. He shook his head, shifting until he was holding his newborn with one arm and able to eat with the other.

"He's fine with being three weeks early," Erol commented, giving his son a playful glare then kissing his forehead. "The late-night wake-up calls better stop there."

Nana laughed, hand on her chest with her head leaning back. "Oh, Erol, they're just getting started!"

He groaned, his head lowering slightly. With a smirk, he looked to his squirming son. "Revenge will come when you are a teenager refusing to wake up in the mornings," he warned, chuckling lowly as he gently pinched a hand and tugged the chubby arm.

"So!" Nana exclaimed, leaning towards the omega. "What do you plan on naming him?"

The orange-haired man froze for a moment, his golden eyes narrowing in thought. What would be a good name for his son? The more he thought about it, he started to smirk and it grew into a fond smile. "Tryk," he replied. "His name is Tryk."

"Oh? What made you decide on that?" Nana inquired curiously.

"I lied to Torn about being in heat, basically tricking him into impregnating me," he explained. "I covered up my pregnancy well enough that no one but you suspected it. Now I convinced Ashelin to stay quiet about him. In a sense, he's my little trick."

Nodding as the explanation went on, Nana couldn't help but agree. "I think it is a wonderful name, dear," she said with a soft smile. "Well, you will need a babysitter for Tryk. I will be glad to be it."

Erol laughed lowly. "Like I could trust anyone else with him," the omega accepted.

 **Here the Story Ends**

 **Yes. You read right! The story ends here! And then I can start working on the sequel that will put these scenes in my head into motion! ^^ I can't wait! XD**

 **The voices of the chapter is actually the conversation Erol was hearing, but not fully processing while he was feverish. Obviously, it was between Nana and Ashelin.**

 **So hope everyone enjoyed this. Let me know what you guys think. And I hope to see you again in the sequel!**


End file.
